In memory of Lee Wei Ling (Singapore)

 

I was sent notifications today (09 October) of Lee Wei Ling’s death today (09 October) by two Singaporeans (my student of Mandarin in London, followed by my ex-RI classmate in Singapore).

My first feeling was one of relief for her, as I’d heard about her condition for a few years now.  Relieved that her suffering’s ended.  RIP Wei Ling.

The first time I heard about her was that the (then-)Prime Minister’s daughter would be joining us at RI (Raffles Institution) for our two Pre-U years there.  Not heard of her prior to that.  

(In the 60s, we at my convent school were so insular that the teacher had to set aside a weekly slot to test us on our Current Affairs knowledge, thus forcing us to go and glean information over the past week.)

There was a school prom to welcome the fresh intake of Pre-U 1.  A lot of the boys had come up from Secondary 4, but the rest of us were new to RI.  Certainly the girls as it was a boys school up to Secondary 4 (O levels).

Attending a prom meant getting all dressed up, especially for the girls.  It was held in the school hall, a huge assembly room with a stage.  Large speakers blaring out music and students were dotted around the hall by the walls. 

It wasn’t difficult to identify Lee Wei Ling.  She was about the only one that I can remember picking out visually who was not in a girly dress, decked out instead in a safari-suit get-up: trousers and jacket with four square pockets on the front.  Plus: a body guard.  We knew it was her body guard because she was not Pre-U age (17–18).

A group of boys were daring each other to go and ask the Prime Minister’s daughter for a dance.  Tan X was the one who decided to brave the walk across the floor to go and ask her.  All eyes were on him as he went over and asked, “May I have the pleasure of a dance?”  (I assume that was what he said, the standard phrase for such an occasion, as the music was very loud.)

We saw her responding, asking him to repeat as she didn’t catch it the first time.

He repeated the question.

She asked him to repeat yet again.

He repeated the question a third time.

Then the music stopped a split second before she responded to that third request, so her shouting back at him rang out really loudly around the school hall, with everyone waiting to hear how she’d answer him, “WHAT?!??  YOU’RE ASKING ME TO DANCE??  BUT I DON’T KNOW HOW TO DANCE!!”

Poor Tan X must’ve blushed.  I couldn’t see his face clearly in the gloom of the school hall, but his body language as he walked back to his group under the glare of a couple of hundred pairs of eyes spoke volumes louder than the music blaring out just a few minutes before.

(Singapore, 1971)